


another of your mistakes

by orphan_account



Series: another of your mistakes [1]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Babies, Cashton, Epic Bromance, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, Lierra, Love Confessions, M/M, Mashton, Mpreg, Muke - Freeform, Post-MYTT, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love, but not really, not much Cashton actually more in the sequel, supportive Calum
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 08:12:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16869349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When a series of poor and rash decisions lead to one-night stands with both LukeandAshton, Michael is left to deal with the consequences — most pressing of which is a surprise pregnancy. Michael doesn’t know who  the father is, but he’s pretty certain that of the three of them, at least one will be coming out of this mess heartbroken. And since Michael’s never been one for optimism, he’s got a bet going with his unborn child that it’ll be him.But then he goes and actually falls in love with his baby, and learns along the way that things like heartbreak aren’t as simple as all that.





	another of your mistakes

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> Just a few notes for y’all before we begin. This fic is mpreg (if you haven’t figured that out already) and will deal mostly with Michael’s journey through the ups and downs of what being pregnant means, especially for someone in Michael’s position. I don’t give much explanation for the hows of it, but it’s a normal occurrence in this universe, so you’ll just have to go with it - otherwise you might want to take a pass on this one. 
> 
> I feel like I need to say I have nothing against Crystal and Sierra. It is obvious to me that irl our boys are very happy with them. Please just remember that this is fiction, and therefore pretend. Obviously none of this actually happened. For the beginning, I’ve kinda tried to stick to canon but I know dates and things might be a bit off for the convenience of the fic. Hope you’ll enjoy it anyway!
> 
> Title taken from the song Grace by Lewis Capaldi.

Michael made mistakes. Obviously, everyone had, but Michael was pretty sure he’d made more mistakes than the average human in his 23 years of life on this planet. He’d made small mistakes, like trying to cook his mum breakfast that one time after she’d caught him with questionable substances and hadn’t even been mad, just  _disappointed_  - which, Michael can attest, was definitely worse - and subsequently almost burning his house to the ground. And he’d made big mistakes.

Like sleeping with his bandmates.

(Yes, plural. He had never claimed to be a seemly member of society, in fact generally tried to avoid it, but this time he thought he’d maybe taken it a bit too far.)

He wasn’t even sure what led to this. Okay, maybe it had a little - a  _lot_ \- to do with the drinking, and maybe Michael had always been the candid drunk type, and maybe his clingy and pining tendencies mixing in the way they had hadn’t helped matters, but who could really blame him? He’d been on a high since the band had released its third album and found massive success, had ridden it throughout touring North America, the UK, and Europe, only gaining momentum with every milestone they passed until it led them to winning three ARIAs, and to a night he’d never forget.

And then to another night right after that.

Anyway, the point was, Michael knew he’d made mistakes. That was why he was lying wide awake in a massive bed, his legs tangled in a mess of sweaty sheets, unsure even if he was in his own suite or  _Ashton’s_ , and trying to fend off a panic attack.

His head hurt and he thought he might be sick, and that definitely had something to do with the ill-advised tequila he had last night, but was mostly the result of the guilt churning in his gut.

Ashton made a snorting noise from his spot on the bed beside Michael, and it startled Michael so bad he let out an embarrassing squeak that he would go to his grave denying ever came out of his mouth. It was only natural for him to blame Ashton for being such an obnoxious and loud sleeper. At the very least the noise dragged Michael out of his head enough that he was no long spiralling down an endless dark hole of hopelessness and self-deprecation.

He resolved to get out of the bed, find his clothes, and leave Ashton to it like he presumed Luke had done the night before. He’d pretend it never happened, like he’d decided (or at least  _tried_ ) to do with Luke that very morning, and life would go on normally.

And he would ignore the constant ache in his chest because he was living at the top of the world with his three best friends and still somehow managing to be a lonely, heartbroken, miserable fuck.

Which was actually something of a new development because before what had transpired the last couple days, he’d actually thought life was going pretty good as he’d lived in his little bubble of denial and illusion.

Michael hauled himself up and off the bed, but when he tried to get his feet under him, he found that his left leg was still tangled in the sheets and just collapsed again, this time onto the floor, cursing loudly when his knee connected with the hard carpeted floor of the hotel room. He honestly didn’t understand how one managed to sneak away after a regrettable one-night tryst with one’s bandmate. Maybe he was just that incompetent. Or maybe Luke had just had practice.

The thought left a bad taste in his mouth that might just be the aftertaste of liquor, a hint of come (and  _fuck,_ that really happened) and regret, but Michael couldn’t decide for sure before Ashton made a snuffling noise and murmured a sleepy, “Michael?” and the thought fled his mind entirely.

Michael’s heart was in his throat, and he watched from his spot on the floor as Ashton palmed the place Michael had been laying just moments before and come up empty. The whine of distress that Ashton emitted actually caused Michael’s heart to flutter painfully in his chest, but still he said nothing, hoping silently that Ashton would just go back to sleep.

Minutes passed, Michael’s legs cramping uncomfortably underneath him, but finally Ashton resettled - this time in the middle of the bed - and his soft puffs of breath evened out, and Michael waited a couple more minutes like that until he was sure Ashton was asleep. Then he carefully, and  _quietly,_  unwound his leg from the blankets and stood up with as much grace as he’d ever achieved in his life. He gathered his clothes, even though it took an eternity to find his boxers, and donned them with about as much finesse as a blind calf searching for its mother’s milk in the dark.

Ashton didn’t reawaken as Michael slipped out the door, padding down the hall barefooted with his shoes in one hand and his phone in the other until he stopped abruptly, coming to the realisation that he had no idea which room was his and, after patting himself down, he found out that didn’t even have his fucking keycard on him so he couldn’t very well get into the room even if he did.

Michael could find someone from security, could even go down to the front desk to ask for help, but he shuddered at the idea of going down there looking like a walking catastrophe, and so instead ended up knocking on a door that he thought -  _hoped_  - was Calum’s and not, heaven forbid,  _Luke’s_.

It was only after the fact that he looked down at the phone still clutched in his hand and realised he could have just texted or called Calum to make sure he had the right room, Calum’s beauty sleep be damned, and it took everything in him not to tear up at the mess of an adult he’d become.

The worst part was that he wasn’t even surprised. Expected it, even.

He contemplated running away and hiding before the door opened and revealed his worst nightmare - because with the way his night had been going so far, it was not only possible, but  _likely_ that it would be Luke standing on the other side, not Calum - but before he could so much as take a step in either direction, let alone figure out a place to hide in a deserted hallway, the door opened and revealed a rumpled, heavy-eyed Calum clutching at the door so as not to fall flat on his face. Michael would almost feel bad for waking him, he looked that tired, except for the relief he felt flooding through him like a tidal wave.

“Mike?” Calum asked, though it wasn’t much of a question, and he hardly looked surprised to see Michael standing outside his door in the middle of the night. He was already opening it wider, gesturing Michael inside, and Michael didn’t think he’d ever been more grateful than he was right now for his oldest best friend.

Calum turned on his heel and walked back into his room, trusting that Michael would follow, and flicked on the lamp on the bedside table before sitting cross legged on the edge of his bed, staring at Michael expectantly where he lingered by the door uncertainly, like he was waiting to see if Michael wanted to talk about it.

Michael most assuredly did  _not_ want to talk about it, ever if he was being honest, and Calum seemed to see that, seemed to see  _Michael_ the way he had always been able to, and Michael loved him so much. And Calum seemed to see that too, because all he said was, “Are you okay?” like he knew Michael wasn’t, but wanted Michael to see that he cared just as much, loved him just as much.

And Michael too a moment to look at him. He noted Calum’s tired eyes, his heavy eyelids, the creases marking his rounded, flushed cheeks from how he was lying on the sheets, and the way his brown hair had tousled messily, but still handsomely, in his sleep, and could never lie. Calum would know if he did, anyway. He already knew.

So Michael shook his head, said simply, “No,” and no explanation was needed. Calum nodded and lied back on the bed, opening the covers and holding them up for Michael to climb in next to him. Michael did, taking comfort in the warmth exuded by Calum’s body, so close to his but not quite touching. Until, that was, Calum grumbled unintelligibly and flopped over onto his side, pawing at Michael until Michael’s back was pressed up against his chest and his arm was wrapped securely around Michael’s waist, like he knew that was exactly what Michael wanted, exactly what he  _needed_.

Michael’s smile was small but genuine, and he fell asleep with the weight in his stomach feeling not quite as leaden.

**wrapped in your arms i swear i’d die for your love**

The relief didn’t last forever, though. Tension ran high the next day as Michael, Calum, and Ashton had breakfast together in the hotel’s mostly empty cafeteria. Luke had fled earlier that morning, the coward, presumably to meet up with his family again before they had to leave. Michael didn’t anticipate seeing him until their flight later that day which would be taking them to San Francisco.

Ashton’s stony silence and Michael’s abashed quietness had Calum looking between the two like he was watching a tennis match. He didn’t quite know what was going on, but Michael could tell he was going to demand answers soon. Michael didn’t know what to say, and he didn’t think telling Ashton that  _he_ hadn’t reacted like this the morning after what happened with Luke would be appreciated. He wasn’t even sure that was true. He’d been avoiding thinking about yesterday and what had led up to last night’s… events.

Michael barely ate, didn’t think he could stomach anymore than a few nibbles of toast, and Ashton didn’t look at him once throughout the entire meal. Michael couldn’t say he blamed him. There was a small, awful part of him deep within himself that wished Luke would have cared enough about what happened to react like Ashton was reacting. Ashton was clearly upset, and Michael wasn’t sure if it was because of the act itself, or because of Michael leaving afterward, but it was  _something._ Luke had given him absolutely no indication of how he felt about ‘the incident’. Michael almost snorted out loud at what he resorted to calling sex with Luke in his head.

“Is something funny?” Ashton’s expression was outwardly polite, but Michael saw the iciness in his eyes, heard the bite in his tone. He suddenly remembered why it hurt so much to have Ashton upset with him. They could all agree that it sucked when Ashton was mad at you - had once, in fact, over a few beers in a hotel room whilst Ashton was away doing his own thing to decompress, angry about something Michael could no longer recall.

Michael flinched just barely, but he knew both Calum and Ashton caught the movement by the way Calum’s eyes widened and Ashton’s softened by the slightest degree. “No,” he whispered, on the verge of defensive. He wasn’t bloody…  _nervous_ or whatever it was they thought of him. He was just… tired. And achy. And wishing he didn’t make such poor and rash decisions when he was drunk and unrequitedly in love.

Nothing else was said between the three of them for the rest of the meal, and Ashton didn’t feel so cold to Michael as he had at the start, but it helped absolutely nothing. If anything, it was worse.

Michael was back to being miserable like he had been the moment he woke up yesterday morning and realised Luke was gone, his pillow cold to the touch. He wondered if that was the moment reality hit that not everything was perfect and beautiful, wondered if that was the moment he knew he wasn’t as untouchable as he’d previously thought. He wondered if the highest point of his high had also been the end, and it was only downhill from here.

Michael didn’t want to go to San Francisco. He didn’t want to have to put on a show when it felt like his entire world had been ripped out from under him, and he was the mess he’d have to clean up.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked the first chapter! If you want to read more PLEASE let me know! I find it almost impossible to finish a fic without some sort of feedback, and your comments give me the motivation to post faster :)
> 
> If you’d like to chat or just want to see what’s happening with me in the fandom, my twitter is @talkclemmings! Make sure to follow me there, as I follow everyone back!


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